You've Got Me
by flamablechoklit
Summary: No more family, no more home, no more hope. But Matt has more than he thinks. AU, MattxMello. Rated for attempted rape, statutory rape, suicide atempts, language, and smut. NOW A SERIES.
1. Rock'a'by Baby in the Tree Top

**AN:** Woah...I have no idea where this came from. I was all staring at a dumpster and what not, and I'm all like, "Matt rape!"...Or something like that...hehe. Anyway, I just cranked this out to hold you over until I update Dreamless Sleep. Chappy 2 is coming, I swear! Its just taking awhile. So here you be lovezzz.

**Warnings:** Ah, well, (attempted) MATT-RAPE! I sorry Matty! T.T  
AU: altered universe. (Matt actually cares about school! le gasp!)  
Pairing is up to you, though it is strongly implied.

**Disclaimer: **So I totally own Death Note. Matt and Mello get it on in every episode and on every page of the manga. Yep...  
(lawlz)

**Dedications:** As with everything, this is for my Matt.

and on we go...

* * *

"Hey...w-will you come get me?"

Matt said quietly into his phone as he ran a hand through his crimson hair. He pulled his hand back and looked down at the flecks of blood on it.

"N-no. I'm fine. I just want to go h-" The word caught in his throat. What was he talking about? Of all the places he could go, home was defiantly not one of them. Especially after last night.

"Look man, I don't need the lecture right now...no, I know that, I just... Can you come get me or not?!" Matt raised his voice and it echoed on the tile floor of the restroom he was in. Slumped on the floor of the last stall, door locked and head pounding, the red head wiped away a tear of frustration.

"No! I don't fucking care!" he yelled this time. The speech he was getting from the other end of the line, about how he should stick it out until the end of day, he really didn't need it right now. Not one bit.

"I can't do this anymore! Don't you get it?! Dad fucking threw me out! Disowned me! I don't have parents anymore, understand?!..." Bile rose in Matt's throat as he slammed his head into the stall door. "I don't have a fucking home anymore man...I don't have anything..."

Matt was quiet for a moment, and then a small, sad smile graced his features.

"Yea...I know," he said almost in a whisper, "I know..." He let one more tear fall, and quickly brushed away it's track with his fitted and cuffed navy blue sleeve.

"So does that mean you'll come get me?"

"Okay...thanks man."

Matt stood up, his smile growing a bit as he unlocked the stall door.

He closed his phone and stepped out of the stall, looking himself over in the mirror. His khaki dress pants were dirty from having been crouched on the floor for the past half an hour, and his tie was wrinkled. A few spots of red were visible on some of the white stripes.

He tucked a hand into the back of his fiery locks again.

The bleeding had stopped at least. He untucked and lifted his shirt to see a large, sickeningly purple bruise forming under his ribcage. Wonderful.

"Ah, hes not ganna be happy..." the red head said out loud, poking at the bruise a little, causing himself to wince. "Not happy at all..."

Matt pulled his shirt back down and brushed off his trousers. Well, that would have to do for now. His body ached, but there was nothing he could do about it here, in this hellhole he called high school. Matt halfheartedly shoved the door open with his shoulder, and emerged into the hall at a slow, exhausted pace.

"Hey fag," Matt heard footsteps accompanying his own, "wondered where you went off to." Matt quickened his pace a bit, not even sparing a glance over his shoulder.

"Where ya goin so fast, Jeevas? Why don't you stay and chat a bit? C'mon fag."

Matt pushed his way through a pair of double doors and onto a landing. He galloped down a staircase and through another door into the courtyard. If he could get to a more crowded area, maybe this guy would leave him alone.

No such luck. Two rough hands shoved Matt backward. He staggered into the guy who'd been following him. Matt glanced back and forth between the two thugs for a moment; he had them to thank for his lovely bruise and pounding headache. Matt began to wonder whether or not his headache could be due to some brain trauma, but the subject quickly flew from his mind as he felt a large pair of hands close around his shoulders, and another pair pushing him back.

The redhead glared at the two. They were tall, taller than Matt at least, and built muscularly. They were probably wrestlers, Matt thought to himself, then took a quick glace in the direction they were shoving him.

"Shit!" Matt yelled and tried to wriggle out of the tight grasp he was in. He was being backed into a shadowed short of alley way between two of the campus buildings. A complete blind spot for anyone looking out into the courtyard from a classroom above.

The redhead was still struggling when another hand clamped roughly over his mouth. _'Another one?! Where the hell did he come from?!'_ Matt's first instinct was to bite the hand, but he thought logically and decided against the action, still continuing to squirm and writhe.

"You scream, Jeevas," said one of the thugs next to his ear, "and you die. Understand?"

Matt nodded weakly, closing his eyes, readying himself for the inevitable fist-to-face fiasco that had been let loose upon him earlier that afternoon. However, to Matt's surprise, terror, and utter bewilderment, the contact he felt was not knuckles colliding with his jaw. Rather, it was a sloppy, wet, hard pair of lips forced upon his own.

Matt's eyes widened in surprise, then closed tightly in pain and humiliation as he was forced against the brick wall of what he assumed was the admittance building.

The redhead thrashed against the wall and the body holding him to it; it was no good. This guy was just too strong.

_'Probably a senior'_ Matt though pitifully to himself as a rough hand ghosted up his shirt and over his welting bruise. _'Where the hell is everyone?! Why isn't anybody looking for me?!' _He whimpered and bit back a cry as he felt himself being lifted and awkwardly balanced between his attacker's hips and the wall behind him.

"Stop!" he shouted, and received a blow to the gut for it.

"What'd I tell you Jeevas?!" Matt heard one of the other two whisper menacingly from somewhere to his right, "you scream, you die."

"Nah," the redhead felt the words panting onto his collarbone, "he wouldn't be as much fun..."

"Hah, looks like you get a break then, fag. Don't expect it again."

Matt bit his lip and tried with all his might to think of something other than the tongue on his Adam's apple. Other than the groin grinding forcefully into his hips. Other than the hands working his belt buckle loose.

And this was surely the admittance building he was pinned to. The same place he'd sat in, a little over two years ago, for the interview that would change his life. Matt remembered how proud his father had been when the redhead had arrived home with news of his acceptance into this most prestigious of academies. Now, sixteen years old, already a senior due to his acceleration in every subject, a day away from graduation (valedictorian no less), and Matt had been reduced to this. Restrained against a brick wall by someone older and stronger than himself. Brains were one thing, brawn was quite another.

Never bring a knife to a gunfight, as they say.

There was the sound of a motorcycle engine somewhere not too far off. Matt felt something wet cascade down his cheek, as well as his dress pants slide down his legs, and he wondered where the snowball effect had begun. Where it had all gone wrong.

Had it been last night? When he came out to his father, and was in turn thrown out of the house and the family. Had it been last summer? When he'd gotten the results of the nation wide exam, telling him that he was only THIRD in the national ranking. Had it been two autumns ago? When his mother left for some man she'd met on a soaring high at the bar.

No, Matt knew he was kidding himself.

It all started the second he'd set foot in that damn office for that damn interview.

And that damn angel walked in and ruined his life.

The dean's page; that was the excuse for his presence. But Matt was sure that God had sent that creature to earth for the soul purpose of Matt's own personal torture.

The redhead had been made sure of this theory the first time that angel spoke to him, said his name. _"Mihael." _And Matt had known, somewhere deep down, it was all over from that point on.

And Matt wondered whether he cared. He didn't.

The tears fell freely now. Matt wondered whether he'd ever see that angel again. His angel; his Mihael. A by now familiar, unwelcome hand crept around his backside, caressing his entrance. Matt bit his bottom lip, so hard he drew blood, and screwed his eyes shut as tightly as possible. There was nothing he could do; nothing he could say to stop them. All Matt could do, was silently pray to his angel, and hope it all ended quickly when--

_**BANG**_

_'Gunfire?! The fuck?!'_ Matt's eyes flew open and scanned wildly around. He was still pinned to the wall, but his attacker's grasp had eased somewhat.

_**BANG**_

Again. Only this time, Matt fell to the ground, landing squarely on his behind. The redhead registered something resembling a yelp, but the sound was soon cut off by another gunshot. Something hit the ground with a dull thud.

Another shout. Another gun shot. Shout. Bang.

Matt scurried backward, pressing himself against the wall this time. Heart pounding, chest heaving. His headache was thumping dismally in the corners of his mind. Perhaps the sudden adrenaline rush had been enough to ebb it away.

_Click_. Gun being cocked.

Matt whipped his head around in the direction of the courtyard. Soft foot falls making him more and more apprehensive; suddenly realizing his trousers were still collected at his ankles. The redhead tugged them back up around his waste, just as the figure came into view.

Matt's photographic memory was being sent into overdrive in attempting to preserve the sight before him. He never wanted to forget it.

The toes and heels of snakeskin boots glinted from under skintight ebony leather, which ran the length of two well-toned calves and thighs, past a corset fly and up to an ornate platinum belt buckle. Above it, a strip of midriff flesh, followed upward by more ebony leather, this time in the form of a vest. Scarlet jacket accenting the blood red rosary beads that hung from a slender yet muscular neck. Golden hair swaying with every step, and cocked pistol hanging loosely from one of two leather clad hands.

Matt swallowed hard, as sapphire eyes locked with his own.

There were no words, as Matt was lifted from the ground for a second time that day, and placed carefully on the back of an onyx motorcycle. The engine roared to life, and some mere yards away, someone was screaming about some silly corpses in a shadowed corner in courtyard of some school that Matt did not know.

All Matt knew now, as he unconsciously wrapped his arms around the warm body in front of him, was nothing.

Yes, Matt knew nothing. In this one moment, his genius seemed to be on hold. In this one moment, every poem he'd ever read, every chemistry exam he'd ever aced, every equation he'd ever solved, had been thrown out the proverbial window.

In this moment, all Matt could remember, was a single, mumbled sentence, from the other end of a horribly serviced cell phone.

_"You've got me."_

* * *

**AN: **Unintentional fluff at the end, yes? Didn't really mean for that...heh...oh well. REVIEWERS GET KEY LIME PIE! x3


	2. When the Wind Blows

**AN:** Not sure how/why, but I decided to change this oneshot to a series. I just felt like it needed more to it and I need to practice with AU stuff because I'm planning another MxM AU fic. Also, I just wanted an excuse to write more lemon x3  
That stuff is addicting, ya know? In other news, school started today. So until ACT time rolls around, I will be UPDATING EVERYTHING MORE OFTEN. I write more/better when I'm putting off homework.

**Warning:** Matt likes to touch himself :D Need I say more?

**Discailmer:** If I owned Death Note I'm sure someone would have told me by now.

**Dedication:** YOU! -points at chu- YES! YOU THERE!

* * *

"Are you hurt?"

Matt wasn't all together sure how to answer that question. He had a few scratches, and his ass was a bit sore from having broken a four-foot fall. But, considering what the alternative had been, he thought he was in pretty good shape. At least he was home now, and he would never have to set foot on that god forsaken campus again.

"No, I'm okay..." the redhead finally answered, swinging his legs a little from the counter top he was perched upon. "Bum is a little sore though..." This earned Matt quite the look from the blonde standing in front of him. And considering what had almost happened to him, perhaps his wording choice hadn't been the best. "I mean, from falling and all." Nope, still with the glare, and a leather clad hand reached up to caress his cheek.

"You're sure?" And Matt marveled at how concerned the other sounded. Or maybe that was just in his mind... But the gentle gesture still brought a pinkish tint to his cheeks.

"Yea..." And suddenly he was being lifted from the counter top and carried through the small apartment he shared with his boyfriend of six months. Yes, six months. Matt hadn't had many options upon being disowned by his homophobic father. And at sixteen and unemployed, it wasn't as if he could simply live alone. Mello wouldn't have allowed it anyway. So now they lived together, ate together, and slept together. And damn, did the eighteen-year-old blonde have a hard time keeping the latter in the literal sense alone.

Because that is exactly what went on in the bed they shared: sleep. Nothing more. Maybe the occasional heated make out session, but nothing beyond. Mello is many things; stupid and child molester not being among them. Matt, not being of consenting age, could simply use it against him if their relationship went awry.

So later that night, when he walked in on Matt laying in their bed with a hand thrust down his boxers and working furiously, Mello decided cold showers were just wonderful.  
Unfortunately, the paper-thin wall between the two rooms didn't seem to like Mello very much. The blonde could hear every little whimper and gasp that escaped the redhead's lips. Everyone has a breaking point.

Mello's just happened to be the sound of his underage boyfriend masturbating so furiously that the squeaking mattress nearly drowned out the boy's own moans.

So now the blonde is practically ripping the door off it's hinges, and he doesn't even remember turning the shower off. Who thinks about conserving water when there's jailbait ass in the next room just begging to be pounded? He hasn't even bothered to wrap a towel around his waist, knowing his steadily growing erection would prevent it's placement anyway.

And when Mello enters the room, just in time to watch Matt come, he decides he'll pass on the cold shower after all.

* * *

**AN:** Yes, short, I know. Not even a full page. Next chapter will be lemon. A LOT of lemon. Who's up for counter top sex?! :D


	3. The Cradle Will Rock

**AN:** Before we start, I have a question. What happened to SemeMatt? Just wondering... Oh, btw! This is flamable's Matt. Yes, I'm lucky, what with every thing getting dedicated to me and what not. I'm loved x3 Anywayyyyyy, flamable (my Mels) wanted me to say something...don't remember what it was tho... Grah... I'm posting this cuz I was asked to and also Mels has a test on The Oddesy (or however the fuck you spell it) 2maro and needs to study.

**Warnings:** Apparently my ass gets pounded... Psh... Whatever. Oh, and theres probly a lot of spelling/gramatical errors, because I'm supposed to beta this but...I got lazy...

**Disclaimer:** Uhm, me and Mels do not own ourselves...? Stfu.

**Detication:** TO ME!! cuz I pwn you. Except in this chapter my ass gets pwned... Lame. I love you Mels but come on, everyone knows you bottom out like, ALWAYS. I'm probly going to be yelled at later for saying that but, eh...

* * *

Mello didn't even remember crossing the room. He didn't remember licking Matt's hand clean of his own release. He didn't remember giving Matt all those hickies along his collarbone, and he didn't remember picking the redhead up by his hips, stumbling out of the bedroom and into the hall. So, mind clouded with lust and currently pressing the younger boy back into the countertop, Mello wondered how the hell they'd managed to end up in the kitchen.

Something told him it didn't matter, so he let it slip his mind in favor of roughly putting Matt down on the counter. And it wasn't as though there was a lot of room to be doing this sort of thing; the kitchen was cramped to begin with, and the blonde suspected the construction team of the apartment complex hadn't designed the kitchens within to be fuck-your-jailbait-boyfriend perfect. That would be disturbing, to say the least.

And speaking of the jailbait boyfriend, Matt's virginal body was responding at an alarmingly quick rate. Because, well, he's never been touched like this before and actually enjoyed it. Never let Mello touch him like this before... That's what seemed to be making all the difference. Cause now there's a hand inside his boxers (and for once it isn't his own), and Mello is touching him, rubbing him, massaging him in ways he didn't know were possible.

And yea, he's throbbing down there. The blonde's hand is probably covered in his pre-juices by now. But Matt can't help it, he really can't. The thought is making him blush something awful, because he knows Mello knows about his inexperience. His eyes are shut tight, and he's whimpering loudly while arching into the blonde's touch. Just a little more, he's thinking, just a little more.

Mello is fully aware of the tensing in the redhead's muscles; knows what it means, but he'll be damned if Matt's first orgasm for him is because of his damn hand. No, no, no. He wants this boy crying for him, beautiful face stained with tears as he begs to be taken harder, faster, anything Mello will give him. The blonde knows how horrible that sounds, but fuck, its what he wants. And it is for this reason that he lets go of the redhead's aching need and rids him of those damn boxers altogether.

Matt whimpers loudly, managing to choke out something that sounds vaguely like _Please Mel, please, I want it_. The blonde shudders in delight as the words send a jolt to his groin. He's had his face buried in the needy boy's shoulder, occasionally nipping at the flesh while his hand worked, but upon removing his hand, he decides he needs a look at the poor thing. Mello is not disappointed.

Matt's hair is disheveled, messy red locks accenting the pink tinge to his cheeks. His chest rising and falling in time with his shallow breathing while the rest of his body is positively quivering with anticipation, and he's whispering something. The blonde leans closer, kissing a blushing cheek as he hears _don't stop, please, more, more_. And that's all it takes for all of Mello's self control to go careening off the edge.

So it is anything but gentle when he flips Matt over and slams the younger's chest down onto the countertop, causing him to yelp loudly. That noise slows the blonde, and a pang of guilt stabs his heart, jarring him half out of this predatorial state.

"Shh," he coos softly, leaning to whisper in the redhead's ear, "you're ok." And Matt visibly relaxes. But now Mello feels even worse, and he silently curses his conscience for snapping him out his previous state of mind. Because now he has to acknowledge that this will most likely be painful for Matt, and he'd rather not think about that. So it's with mental hesitation that he whispers, "This might sting a little," and he nuzzles the panting boy's cheek, "but I promise it will get better, alight? Do you trust me?" Matt can only nod in response, his senses being too overloaded with lust to form actual words. "Ok then." And Mello slowly glides one finger in, being lubed by the redhead's own pre-juices.

It's mildly uncomfortable, and altogether just plain weird feeling, but Matt is ok. He's thinking he got himself all worked up over nothing, and the sensation of the other's finger moving in and out of his tight orifice is actually kind of nice. Another finger enters, and he feels himself being spread. There's a shock of extreme discomfort that swims up his spine with this one, but it's gone soon enough, the feeling numbing and then turning into the pleasant feeling from before. But then, when a third finger forces it's way in, it's all Matt can do to stifle his yelp in his arms.

"M-Mel," he whimpers softly, green eyes brimming with tears, "it h-hurts...it hurts..." He's gripping the counter, whole body tensing in an attempt to rid himself of the pain.

"I know, I know," the blonde consoles him quietly, never ceasing his engulfed fingers. "It gets better, I swear. You said you trusted me, right?" He knows that was a low blow, trying to play the guilt card on the boy beneath him, but he's fairly certain Matt won't notice it.

"M-mhm," the redhead manages through choking back sobs. And it's true, cause he'd trust Mello with his life, but damn. It just fucking hurts. And Mello won't stop! His damn fingers just keep moving, and Matt is clenching so tightly around them, he's wondering why they won't just break. Wait, the movements are slowing now, and the blonde is nuzzling and kissing his cheek; maybe it's a bit more bearable now...

"Relax," Mello whispers in the other's ear, and he feels the boy's muscles grow less tense; he's always so obedient. He wants Matt crying for more, not for it all to hurry up and be done with. His fingers are still smoothly gliding in and out, going a bit deeper each time, and doing his best to keep a restraint on himself. Suddenly, Matt tenses so tightly that the blonde cant even retract his hand. The redhead gasps loudly, and Mello has no idea what the hell he did wrong.

"Mel..." He draws out in a long, voiceless breath. Matt is completely clueless as to what just happened. It was like Mello just hit a switch, somewhere deep inside him, and the pain just...melted.

The blonde knows very well what he's done now, and it's anything but wrong. But just for good measure, once Matt has calmed a bit, he thrusts his fingers once more, hitting the same spot dead on. He buries his face in the nape of the boy's neck, nuzzling the sweaty red hair and listening to the little whimpers of _more, please Mel, more. _But, as he's made clear to himself, his hand will have nothing to do with Matt's completion. So Mello slowly disengages his fingers, only to have the boy beneath him buck backward at the loss.

"Calm down," he chuckles softly into the redhead's ear, earning himself an impatient groan. He grips the younger's hips firmly, and pushes him forward on the kitchen counter, which is by this point slick with a mixture of Matt's own bodily fluids. And Mello doesn't think he's ever seen anything so fucking erotic in his life. He situates himself between the younger's soft thighs, running the tip of his length around the tight entrance.

Matt's eyes are screwed shut as he tries to calm his breathing, keeping himself supported on his forearms as his legs dangle helplessly over the side of the counter top. The small sticky puddle between his thighs is growing with every passing moment, and the blonde's teasing isn't helping a thing. He wishes Mello didn't have such a good grip on his hips, because he'd really like nothing more than to buck back and impale himself. But suddenly that thought disappears, and Matt can't think of anything but the glorious pressure being applied from inside him.

The blonde is breathless, and it's all he can to do keep himself from coming right here and now. The sight of Matt squirming under him, tight little hole contracting in it's desire to be stuffed full; it'd been too much. Without a second thought he'd plunged into the thin body beneath him, forcing himself past tight ring of muscle, and now his cock is completely engulfed in the hot, moist cavern. With his self control hanging by a thread, his mind is practically screaming at him to _stay still, you fucking moron, stay still. _The last thing he wants is to damage the boy, but when hears the breathless gasp of,

"Mello...that's _amazing_..." He knows it's all over. Something inside him snaps, and the blonde knows he's going to absolutely wreck the small frame beneath him.

Seconds later he's thrusting into Matt like there's no tomorrow, the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin echoing through the apartment, and hell if Matt isn't enjoying it too. Mello has gotten his wish, and the cries escaping the needy boy are that of pure ectasy. Matt is screaming, hot tears running down his cheeks as he clutches the other end of the counter, white knuckled. He's bucking and moaning and his dick is leaking like crazy, and damn, Mello must be some kind of god.

With one last thrust from the blonde, Matt is soaring. It's as if he's never known pleasure before, and he comes so hard he thinks he might just pass out. His releases onto the counter top, dick pulsing and ass clenching, breathlessly moaning Mello's name again and again. Pressing flush against the body under him, and after whispering a hushed _good boy,_ the blonde fills Matt with his seed, relishing in the pleased whimper it earns him.

And for now, he's going to attempt to ignore the illegal aspect of what he's just done...

* * *

**AN: **Am I supposed to say something here? Something. There. Review? And I do -not- cry during sex. Psh.


	4. When the Bough Breaks

**AN:** Yes, I know, I'm a horrible person. -sigh- It only gets worse from here on out. Uhm, yay angst?

* * *

Mello's on edge and it's getting pretty bad. Last night had done wonders for his stress level, but as soon as he'd woken up and actually realized _Oh yea, we fucked..._ Well, it hadn't been a very good morning, for him at least.

Matt had woken up with quite the opposite of feelings, aside from, you know, the god-awful pain in his ass. Other than that, life was pretty sweet. And sex was fun; he'd be doing that again real soon, or so he thought.

But right now they're in the car going eighty in a forty-five because Mello is just too damn paranoid that everyone next to him at the red light _fucking knows_. Yea, it's irrational as hell, but goddamn it, it _seems_ possible and it _seems_ real and it just... It's unnerving, to say the least.

"Mello?..."

"Shut it."

"But I just-"

"Mail," it's somewhere between a growl and a snarl and definitely enough to scare the redhead into silence. They haven't talked since last night, and Mello knows how terribly cold it is of him, but hey; fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, and Mello's gotta de-flower little boys and then ignore them the morning after. Right? Right.

They pull into an all too familiar parking lot, and Matt picks _that fucking moment _to look up from his handheld.

"Mello?"

"Did I not just tell you to-"

"No! Shut up!" Matt yells, glaring daggers at the blonde, who himself is a little surprised. "I didn't do anything wrong, so stop treating me like _I'm _the one who raped _you_, ok?! I want to know what the fuck we're doing back he-" He's grabbed by his blue and black shirt collar and slammed back against the window with a loud thump.

"Listen to me, you little snot, I did not rape you. And so help me Mail, I will end you if you _ever_ say otherwise." It's a voice that isn't Mello's and malice so deep he doesn't even feel it. He's sitting in the backseat, watching some blonde guy he doesn't know spit fire at the poor kid across from him. 'Get out kid,' Mello's thinking to himself as the blonde fists the striped material tighter, 'This guy's fucking crazy; you're gonna get hurt. Get the fuck out.'

Something that sounds remotely like "Understand?" floats through the redhead's ears, and he nods slowly, afraid to worsen the dull throbbing from having been knocked against the window so many times within the last five minutes. He tentatively removes the goggles from over his eyes and gently touches the forming bump on the back of his head.

There's the slam of the driver's side door, and an impatient bang on the hood.  
Matt lets one tear slide half way down his cheek, before hastily wiping it away and scrambling to undo his seatbelt.

* * *

**AN:** Poor Matty, it's only going to get worse for him. Chocolate if you can guess where they are. Actually, I take that back, you can't have it.  
Keylime pie instead.


End file.
